Tuesday, April 05, 2016

AN OXHEART KIND OF LOVE

§Just watched a CBC documentary by Sook-Yin Lee called Where Have All the Poets Gone. If you've got an hour and are curious about a new take on poetry in Canada today, give it a look.Today's NaPoWriMo prompt is to play with seeds. Names of heirloom seeds, to be precise. Which got me Googling, and next thing I knew I was looking up old names for grass in the 60's and 70's! (Bubba Kush, Jack Herer, AK-47, Kali Mist, Lavender, Headband, Skunkberry, Purple Haze, Chocolope, Maui Wowie, Bubblegum, OG Ghost Train Haze, Hashplant, Chem ’04, Big Bud the Goo...)I'm also remembering a similar prompt from a year or two ago this month, to do with sea shells.

So today's prompt goes like this: "Today, I challenge you to spend some time looking at the names of heirloom plants, and write a poem that takes its inspiration from, or incorporates the name of, one or more of these garden rarities. To help you out, here are links to the Southern Exposure Seed Exchange and the Baker Creek Seed Company.

And, back to heirloom seeds that are food-related, how about Chantenay Red Core or Cosmic Purple or Oxheart carrots, Egyptian Walking onions, Aji Dulce Spice peppers, Ali Baba or Amish Moon and Stars Watermelon, Black Brandywine tomatoes, Bloody Butcher Dent corn, Bull's Blood beet, and I could go on but that won't get a poem written, will it?What to do...what to do...AN OXHEART KIND OF LOVEThe bloody butcher put a dent in the box with the corn.Said he didn't, but I called bull and his face went beet redas he threw me out of the store,corn trailing behind me like I was Gretel.Back home, I put on Walk Like An Egyptian,smoked a little Cosmic Purple,sipped Black Brandywine and danced around the kitchen, putting together a cornless mealto go with the oxheart entrée,weaving to and fro — a walking bangle-fest I was — until the guy upstairs came downto see what I was up to,his Aji Dulce Spice aftershavemingling agreeably with the smell of my cuisine.Thick as Ali Baba's thieves we were after that night when we cooked something upunder the Amish moon and stars. And the butcher relented, felt bad about the dent,gave us free corn until it was finished for the year.

It seems only right to add a picture of something growing. How about this basil that I bought when we first got here (Mexico) three months ago. I actually bought three plants, rosemary and mint as well, but this is the only one that survived.And here's a shot of my desk, and yes, there's tequila in that glass! Now to go have dinner somewhere (I cooked last night so tonight we're going out) and then I'll tackle the very weird Found Poem prompt. Something about a song, so stay tuned!§

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ABOUT PURPLE MOUNTAIN POETRY

Okay, this is it. Where I can be found in cyberspace, should anyone be looking. In real space, I'm surrounded by mountains that often look purple. Mountains, as in those stoic granite guardians that rise above all the trials of the day, assuming your day has trials, and sooner or later, most of them do. This is where I talk about poetry, mostly. There's the occasional rant, for good measure. But no whining. Absolutely no whining.

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ABOUT ME

I've been interested in words ever since I can remember. I write poetry, a little prose, and publish chapbooks through my imprint, NIB Publishing. NIB stands for Nose in Book, where mine can usually be found.